


dream of me tonight

by aeio



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Crush, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, jeongho, jeongmin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28062174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeio/pseuds/aeio
Summary: Life is hard when you're crushing on your roommate-- especially when that roommate is beautiful upperclassman Lee Minho.Jeongin tries his best to keep it together, but it's not easy.
Relationships: Lee Minho | Lee Know/Yang Jeongin | I.N
Comments: 31
Kudos: 193





	dream of me tonight

"— was so funny, wasn't it, Innie?"

Jeongin snaps out of his daze and stares up at Hyunjin, a guilty blush creeping up his neck. He's been staring at Minho's eyelashes for the past five minutes, watching the way they flutter while Minho listens to Hyunjin talk.

"Uh… what?"

Hyunjin gives him a look. "I said, wasn't it funny when Chris ran into the wall today? 'Cause he was looking at that girl?"

A snort works its way out of Jeongin's nose at the memory. "Sorry, yeah. God, he's hopeless."

"He's just a romantic," Minho says, and Jeongin hopes nobody can tell how quickly his heart is thumping in his chest.

Jisung snorts. "He's not romantic, he's greasy."

"Hey Google, text Chris that Jisung called him greasy—"

"Hey, okay, I take it back, jeez!"

A mechanical voice chirps from inside Minho's pocket. "Okay. I'll text _Chris_ : 'Jisung called him greasy.' Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"You snake!" Jisung screeches, lunging for Minho's phone. Minho just laughs, in that quiet, pretty way of his, and sweeps Jisung up in a tight hug instead.

Jeongin sighs contentedly. This is fine. He knows he can never _be_ with Minho— but this is the next best thing.

* * *

Minho Lee is everything Jeongin wants to be. He's cool, he's beautiful, and everyone on campus loves him. He's nice to all the undergrads— Jeongin included— and even though he's the star of the university's dance team, he never brags about it. Every day, someone new on campus crushes on him, and they always crush hard.

The fact that Jeongin Yang is even in Minho's life at all is pure coincidence.

All of Jeongin's friends are older than him. Hyunjin, Jeongin's best friend since elementary school, picked this university specifically for the dance program. As two of the most talented dancers, he and Minho quickly became friends, and Minho invited Hyunjin to room with him and his other friends, Chris and Jisung, off-campus. But then Chris graduated, and Hyunjin asked Jeongin to fill his spot.

He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

If looking at Minho from afar is like watching a star shine in the night sky, then _living_ with him is like staring into the fucking sun. It's blinding.

Most people get less attractive the more you know them. Hyunjin, for instance, hogs the bathroom in the mornings and refuses to put away his laundry. Jisung picks his nose— _and_ eats it. But it's been two months already, and Jeongin has only fallen deeper and deeper into what he can only call the biggest fucking crush of his life.

Minho always does the dishes. Even if they aren't his own. He always cleans the apartment. He's quiet during quiet hours, and never touches the others' stuff without asking.

And most of all, he's nice to Jeongin.

Not that Jeongin expects people to be _mean_. He's just used to being… on the fringe of things. Apparently he has what Hyunjin lovingly calls a _resting bitch face_ , so people tend to stay away unless they have a reason to interact.

Not Minho, though. He seems to genuinely enjoy being in Jeongin's presence. The older man actively seeks Jeongin out when he's bored, talking to Jeongin like they're friends and asking about Jeongin's classes, even though Minho is already a senior and Jeongin is only a sophomore. It's just so easy to like him.

But it's less easy to hide it.

"Hey, Innie." Minho's voice rings out from the hallway. Jeongin turns to look at him, and immediately regrets it.

Minho is standing there with only a pair of basketball shorts slung low on his hips, towel-drying his hair, little water droplets still sliding down his face.

And his chest, and his hips, and—

"Uh, hi," Jeongin squeaks. He hopes Minho won't see the blush creeping over his cheeks. "Good practice?"

"Mhmm." Minho sits down on the other end of the couch, continuing to rub his scalp with one hand and scrolling through his phone with the other. It's balanced carefully on his bare, muscular thigh. Jeongin glances at it and gulps.

"Hey, is there anything in that bowl?" Minho is gesturing to the pipe on the side table. Jisung left it there when he went to class.

Jeongin peeks inside it. "Uh, yeah. Little bit."

"Awesome." Minho holds out his hand, and Jeongin passes him the pipe and the lighter next to it. "If there's one thing you can count on Jisung for," Minho says, leaving the towel hanging around his neck while he lights up, "it's always leaving his weed around."

He takes a deep hit, closing his eyes as he releases a barely visible cloud of smoke. He's beautiful like this. All angles and lines, shadows and light playing off the sharp planes of his face, his head tilted up towards the heavens and his eyes closed.

Wordlessly, he holds the pipe out to Jeongin. Jeongin takes it, taking a much smaller hit and watching Minho slump back against the couch out of the corner of his eye.

They pass it a few more times, until Jeongin stops pulling any smoke from the used-up bowl. He mimics Minho, sinking back into the plush, overstuffed couch. His body feels heavy and warm and his mind feels slow, and there's nothing else he wants to do right now other than exist in the same space as Minho Lee.

"Cool," Minho says out of nowhere, and after a brief second of silence both of them crack up.

"Yeah, cool," Jeongin repeats. "So cool, bro."

They look at each other for a second, and even through Jeongin's brain fog he feels the electricity of Minho's gaze. And then as quickly as it comes the moment is broken, and Minho grins at him and says again, "Cool."

"You're an idiot." Jeongin's tone is fond, and the words slip out before he realizes it. He and his friends often joke around like this, but he’s never said anything like that to Minho before.

"Yeah," Minho agrees. His voice is suddenly quiet. "I am."

Jeongin frowns and turns towards him. "Wait, no, I didn't— I didn't mean it, Minho." Jisung and Hyunjin both call Minho 'Min' or 'Minnie,' but Jeongin isn't quite close enough for that yet. "I meant—"

And then Minho is catching Jeongin's arm— Jeongin always talks with his hands, fluttering them in the air— and pulling Jeongin towards him.

"I am an idiot," Minho says quietly.

There seems to be meaning behind his words. Something he's trying to say. But Jeongin's head is too slow and cloudy to figure it out, and all of his attention is focused on Minho's touch against his skin. Minho's hands are soft. So soft. And so _small._

Then Minho starts laughing, but it sounds wrong. Minho's laugh is usually beautiful— high-pitched and reedy— but this sounds forced.

Before Jeongin can process it, Minho is already moving away from him, dropping Jeongin's hand and retreating back to his own side of the couch. He starts toweling his hair dry again, and it's like the whole strange moment never happened.

Jeongin's body feels flushed and warm, and the feeling concentrates between his legs and in his cheeks, as it usually does when he's high. His skin still feels the ghost of Minho's touch.

"Uh, I have to go," he says.

Minho just nods, and Jeongin practically runs back to his room.

* * *

He's frustrated. He already came like twenty minutes before Minho showed up, right after he woke up at noon, and his body isn't quite ready to go again. His balls ache in a less than pleasant way and his dick is unresponsive, filling out to half hardness and no more. But he _wants_ it.

His hand is relentless on himself, his grip tight. He bites his lip and kicks his shorts further down— he’d barely pulled them down before collapsing in his bed after slamming the door shut. They get stuck on his right ankle and he just huffs and leaves them there.

“Innie?”

Jeongin freezes.

“Jeongin? Aren’t you in here?”

It's Minho’s voice. Jeongin knows he should get up and answer the door— but he doesn't.

His hand tightens around his pathetic, more-or-less hard cock. He doesn't move it, but he squeezes himself tightly, feeling the blood pump in his pulse.

“Yeah?” he calls out. His voice cracks.

There's a scuffling, then silence. Minho probably expects Jeongin to come to the door, but Jeongin can’t move. His body is electrified all of a sudden, like Minho’s proximity is a pure injection of arousal.

“Uh… Nevermind,” Minho says eventually, his tone muffled through the door. But even though he says that, he doesn’t leave.

Jeongin doesn't know what comes over him then. His hand, still gripping himself way too tightly, starts moving again. Barely— but he moves. He tugs his foreskin up over the ridge of his cockhead, suddenly feeling every single movement like an electrical shock in his brain, and has to choke down a gasp at the feeling.

Minho’s shadow beneath the doorway shifts. Jeongin continues to fist himself, tortuously slowly, trying to be quiet but probably not trying hard enough, breath stuck in his throat, suddenly sweating everywhere—

And finally Minho steps away, his shadow disappearing and his footsteps sounding fainter and fainter down the hallway.

When the soft _click_ of Minho’s door closing echoes faintly down the hall, Jeongin curses into his pillow and comes.

* * *

They all have Chinese takeout for dinner that night, a slightly-less-than-rare treat paid for by Hyunjin's parent's credit card.

"Fucking rich kid," Jisung says, shaking his head as he shoves yet another piece of broccoli into his already-full chipmunk cheeks.

"This rich kid gets you free food, asshole." Hyunjin shoots back.

"Mmmm, you do. Thank you, Hyunjin's parents, for being loaded. And for making Hyunjin, I guess."

"You _guess—"_

Minho and Jeongin both start snickering at the same time. Minho makes eye contact with Jeongin, a smile on his face, and usually they would have a little moment of laughter together at their friends' expense— but now Jeongin's face reddens and he quickly looks away. Memories from earlier are still running through his head.

 _Did he hear me? Does he know? Does he think I'm a freak? I_ am _a freak, I can't believe I did that, what the fuck was I thinking—_

"Hey," Minho says suddenly. "We should have some people over tonight."

Jisung and Hyunjin both stop squabbling and look up at Minho. Their faces are lit up identically, like two excited puppies.

"Yeah?" Jisung says excitedly. He doesn't like crowds, but he _does_ like getting wasted and trashing people at Mario Kart. That's how all of their get-togethers end up, anyways. They're not parties, not really, just a bunch of their friends coming over to hang out.

"None of us have class tomorrow, right?" Hyunjin asks. He already has his phone out, and his thumbs are tapping out a text.

"Jeongin does," Minho says, making eye contact with Jeongin again.

It makes Jeongin's heart thump in his chest. Minho knows his class schedule? Yeah, they've been living together for a few months, but still… Jeongin doesn't know Jisung or Hyunjin's schedules. (He knows Minho's, but that's to be expected.)

"It's just a noon class. I'll be okay." Jeongin doesn't know why, but for some reason he very much wants a distraction tonight. He tells himself that it's definitely _not_ because Minho is extra touchy-feely when he's drunk.

"Perfect." Minho smiles, straight at Jeongin, and it sends a shiver down Jeongin's spine. This is too much. Minho is playing with him, he's _sure_ of it.

He just can't figure out why.

* * *

"Innie! My favorite person in the _whole_ world!" Chan's words are slurred but happy as he throws an arm around Jeongin's shoulder. Jihyo watches them both with a smile on her lips, body swaying, either to the music or from the drink in her hand, Jeongin isn't really sure.

He's nursing a single beer, warm now from him holding it for so long. Jeongin has never really liked beer, and plus he and Jisung already lit up in Jisung's room before everyone came over. He prefers the heavy calmness of being high over the room-spinning, out-of-control feeling he gets from being drunk.

But Chan is clearly on his fourth or fifth drink. It shows in the way he wraps himself around Jeongin, clinging and making happy little noises.

"It's not _fair,"_ Chan whines, stroking Jeongin's hair (but kind of missing, and mostly just petting Jeongin's ear). "I want to live with you, too. You're so cute. I can't believe they kicked me out before you moved in."

Hyunjin's voice rings out from the couch. "We didn't kick you out, you fucking _graduated,_ you moron!"

"I'm still in grad school! It still counts!" Chan is pouting now, looking up at Jeongin with big, watering eyes.

"Okay then, move out of Jihyo's apartment and come back to live with us."

Chan gasps dramatically and untangles himself from Jeongin to go cling to Jihyo instead. She laughs, a bit of her drink spilling on Chan's shirt, but neither of them mind. "No," Chan says, his voice tiny. "I dun wanna leave herrrrr—"

"Okay, okay," their friend Brian says. He's completely sober, and looks at Chan fondly. "Why don't you go sit down, Channie? And I'll hold this for you." He plucks the beer from Chan's hand and nudges Chan towards the couch. "There you go."

Everyone laughs at them, Chan just drunk and pathetically in love, and Jihyo, for her part, still beaming at him. And then Jeongin feels a light touch on his elbow.

"They're so cute."

It's Minho. His words are only a little jumbled, and Jeongin smells something sweet and fruity on his breath.

"Are you drinking _spritzers?"_ Jeongin asks, forgetting his awkwardness for a moment in favor of surprise. The unfamiliar, out-of-place cans show up in their fridge every now and then, but Jeongin had always kind of assumed they were Hyunjin's.

Minho shrugs. "I don't like beer."

Jeongin shakes his head. "I am honestly not surprised."

Minho's hand on Jeongin's elbow snakes closer, until Minho's arm is intertwined with his own. Minho leans against him and Jeongin draws in a sharp breath. His whole body is on alert, hyper-aware of all the places Minho is touching him right now. _Do not get a fucking boner in the middle of your living room,_ he mentally screams at himself.

Minho sniffs at him, then looks up with a curious expression. "Did you smoke?"

"Mmhm. With Jisung earlier."

"Do you wanna go top up?"

A shiver runs down his body that he hopes Minho doesn't feel— but then Minho is giving him a _look,_ and Jeongin knows he does. _Fuck._

"Yeah." His head is spinning, and not just from the weed. "Sure."

He follows Minho to Jisung's room— Jeongin's hesitant, _"Shouldn't we ask him?"_ easily brushed aside by Minho's, _"No, we're brothers. It's fine,"_ even though Jeongin knows they're _definitely_ not brothers. But close enough, really. The two of them have always had a weirdly deep connection— and Jeongin's _not_ jealous of it, he's not. He's not.

Jisung's room is an absolute mess, and Minho shoves a pile of clothes out of the way with his foot before settling down on the floor with his back resting against Jisung's bed. He pats the space next to him, and without thinking Jeongin takes a seat. He can smell something cool and fragrant on Minho, like aftershave, and when he steals a glance he notices that Minho's skin is smooth and glowing. He must have shaved before this.

Minho reaches up to sift through a pile of junk of Jisung's desk, and comes back clutching a hot-pink pen. He puts the tip to his lips and inhales, closing his eyes.

For the second time in a day, Jeongin watches him smoke. Minho's eyelashes are unfairly long and thick, and when he rests his head back against Jisung's bed to exhale, the image takes Jeongin's breath away. Minho's lips fall open, cherry-red, and Jeongin's eyes travel the line made by his neck, all the way down his body.

 _Beautiful._ Minho Lee is beautiful, and Jeongin is so fucking whipped.

"I know you're staring at me." Minho's voice snaps Jeongin out of his weird trance.

"I—"

"It's okay." Minho opens his eyes and looks at Jeongin. "I don't mind."

Jeongin has no idea what to say to that.

While he's sputtering, panic dripping out of his pores, Minho just wordlessly hands him the vape pen. Jeongin likes this one— it's a body high, not a head high, and the last time he had it he and Jisung just laid on the floor for hours, talking about everything and nothing, the high like a comfortable blanket tucked around them.

He gives up trying to get himself out of— _whatever_ that was— and just closes his lips around the pen, sucking in a deep breath.

It fills him up instantly, like a tingling warmth spreading down his body, and he takes a few more hits before passing it back to Minho. Suddenly he can't remember why he was so worried.

Sure, he's sitting on the floor next to his hot crush. Alone. Smoking. Which they've never done before. Well, earlier today, but that wasn't like _this,_ it wasn't the two of them, shoulder-to-shoulder, in the dim glow from Jisung's computer monitor with the muffled noise of their friends just down the hall.

This is different.

His eyelids are heavy, and he's about to close them when Minho jostles him with his arm.

"Hey. Let's play truth or dare."

Jeongin snorts. "What are you, ten?"

"No, I'm twenty-two," Minho says, completely serious. "I'll go first. Dare."

His mind is reeling, trying to process what's going on. _Dare?_ He hasn't done this since he was in high school. _What do you even dare people to do?_

"Uh… I dare you to…" His eyes search the room and fall on the computer. "Look at Jisung's bookmarks?"

Minho barks out a laugh. "Oh, that's evil. You're evil." He gets to his knees and reaches across the computer desk to jiggle the mouse. "Remind me to never let you near my laptop."

"You're the one who wanted to play truth or dare," Jeongin says defensively.

"You're right, I was." Minho guesses Jisung's password on the first try, and before he can even attempt to look at Jisung's bookmarks, they're greeted by a full-screen Pornhub tab.

"Oh, my god," Jeongin shrieks, covering his eyes. "Make it go away!"

"Fuck," Minho hisses, fumbling with the mouse. It's frozen all of a sudden, so he ends up just jabbing his finger at the power button of the monitor, plunging them into merciful darkness. "Fucking hell, Jisung."

"Worst dare ever," Jeongin whispers. He forgets all of his nervousness from earlier and punches Minho on the arm. "I can't believe that just happened. I need to bleach my brain."

"Agreed." Minho stands up and holds out a hand, which Jeongin takes. "Can we also agree to forget this ever happened, and absolutely never tell Jisung we saw his depraved porn?"

"Please."

And the moment is so ludicrous that they both burst out into laughter, gravitating towards one another in the dark room. When their laughter dies down Jeongin realizes that Minho is clinging to him, catching his breath, and Jeongin is struck with how much _smaller_ Minho is. From afar he always seems so powerful and solid, his dancer's body muscled and strongly built— but now, curled up against Jeongin's side, Jeongin can feel just how petite the other man is. He's still more muscular and solid than Jeongin himself, but his hands are small and soft, and he's shorter than Jeongin by an inch or so at least.

The realization _does_ something to Jeongin. But before he can process it, Minho is pulling away, heading for the door.

He follows Minho back to the party, but his arms feel empty as he does. Empty and wanting.

* * *

He manages to have fun, getting distracted when Felix arrives and they take over the game console from Jisung. Seungmin is there too, and before long he's yelling himself hoarse with his friends.

He has another beer, and by the time people start filtering out, he's feeling pleasantly buzzed and worn out.

"Come over again soon," he says as he hugs Felix and Seungmin goodbye. "It's been way too long."

"Yeah, we miss you at the dorms, Innie!" Felix doesn't let go, and Jeongin has to pry himself out of Felix's tight embrace. They're laughing as the door shuts, and Jeongin listens to their happy chatter fade as they walk away.

They're the last guests to leave, so Jeongin sighs and eyes the empty apartment. It's a wreck, but that can wait for tomorrow. He stifles a yawn and heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

He doesn't expect to open the door to the hallway bathroom and find Minho.

"Oh my god— sorry—"

Minho hops down from the counter, stumbling a little. "No, no. I'm not doing anything, it's okay."

Jeongin chances another glance and sees that Minho was, in fact, simply sitting on the bathroom counter, fully clothed. "What are you doing in here?" he asks, confused.

Minho yawns too, covering his mouth with a small hand. He blinks, and his eyes are red from— well, a lot of things, probably.

"Channie and Jihyo went into my room a while ago," he admits in a sleepy mumble. "Kind of don't want to walk in there."

"Oh," Jeongin says. Then he realizes what Minho means. _"Oh."_

"Yeah." Minho yawns again, and sinks down to perch on the edge of the closed toilet. Their bathroom is pretty small, and with both of them in here, it's cramped. "I'm so tired, though…"

He trails off, and Jeongin isn't famous for picking up on social cues, but even he knows what Minho is leading up to. He knows, because things are somehow _different_ between them now then they were this morning.

He picks up his toothbrush from the cup on the sink and squeezes toothpaste on it. "You can sleep in my room," he says, then quickly stuffs the toothbrush in his mouth, saving himself from having to comment any further.

Minho leans forward to hug Jeongin's middle. "You're the best," he gushes.

They're a comical sight, Minho half-sitting, half-hanging onto Jeongin as Jeongin brushes his teeth. He looks at their reflection in the mirror, and his eyes meet Minho's.

They both blush, and look away.

A million thoughts are running through Jeongin's head. _He blushed._ And, _he's gonna sleep in my room._ He chokes on his toothpaste.

 _Holy fuck he's gonna sleep in my_ room.

He spits, rinses, and then finally makes eye contact with Minho.

"Um," he says. He shifts from foot to foot.

"Hmm?" Minho's arms are still around Jeongin's waist. It makes it hard to think.

"I, uh. I have to pee."

"Oh." Minho stands up, still a bit wobbly. He braces himself against the wall. "Sorry— I'll go wait in your room?" His voice goes up at the end, like he's asking for permission.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's okay."

"Okay." Minho puts a hand on the small of Jeongin's back as he squeezes past him to get out of the bathroom. "Thanks."

As soon as the door clicks shut behind Minho, Jeongin splashes cold water in his face. It doesn't do anything for his racing heart, but it snaps him out of his spiraling thoughts. He really does have to pee, but Minho's touch and Minho's presence and Minho's very _existence_ have made him half-hard already, so he just stands in front of the toilet, dick in hand, for what feels like ages.

Finally he's able to clear his mind enough to empty his bladder. He shakes the stray droplets away and then stuffs himself back in his pants, taking a deep breath as he washes his hands and prepares to leave the bathroom. He should do his skincare routine, but he's just a little too drunk and a little too high and a _lot_ too horny. His brain has room for one thought and one thought only. _Minho._

When he opens the door to his room, he's holding his breath— but Minho is just sitting at Jeongin's messy desk, resting his head on his arms.

"Tired?" Jeongin asks, trying to be casual when all he wants is to climb into Minho's lap. Or have him climb into his. Either way, Jeongin's not picky.

"Long day," Minho answers. "I got up for practice at eight."

Jeongin glances at his clock. It's almost 4 A.M. "I'm surprised you haven't passed out already."

"I have a lot of stamina."

For the second time in the night, Jeongin nearly chokes. Minho fixes him with a weird look. "From dance," he adds.

"Right. Right. Um… so…" Jeongin looks around his room and tugs at his ear. That's always been his nervous habit. _How are we gonna do this?_

"I don't mind sharing the bed," Minho says. "If you don't."

A wave of relief, followed by a flash of horror. Is this actually happening? Is Jeongin really about to share a bed with the guy he's been pining over for the past two months?

"I don't mind," he says, only it comes out as a squeak and he wants to die of embarrassment.

Minho just giggles quietly. He makes his way over to the side of the bed that still has covers tucked in neatly— Jeongin usually sleeps on the right side, and he doesn't move around much, so it's obvious which side is his.

"I promise I won't bite," Minho jokes, and then his tone becomes unexpectedly soft. "Don't worry, Innie. We're just sleeping."

The words comfort him immediately, even though he didn't even know he needed it. His racing thoughts quiet down inside his head, and his body hums with quiet happiness instead of the manic excitement from just seconds before. And this is exactly why he's fallen so hard for Minho— because not only is he hot, and funny, and cool, he's also _kind._ And that's what always sticks with Jeongin the most.

"It's been a long time since I've shared a bed with someone," he says, to make conversation as he pulls off his jeans and changes into soft, flannel pajama pants. He leaves his t-shirt on.

Minho follows suit, stepping out of his pants and pulling his shirt over his head, leaving him in just his briefs. Jeongin tries not to stare. It's easier in the dark.

"What about that girl you had over a few weeks ago?"

"Oh, Chaery?" Jeongin blushes, remembering. "She left after, uh— you know. She didn't stay over."

Minho just hums and climbs into bed. "I haven't seen her around lately."

Jeongin stalls by plugging in his phone and messing with his alarms. He switches his class alarm on and off, on and off. "Yeah, I just… I don't know. It didn't really work out." He doesn't mention the fact that his raging crush on Minho got in the way of any feelings he ever might have had for Chaeryeong.

"That's too bad."

Finally, Jeongin gets into bed next to Minho. His bed is full-size, luckily, so they're not smushed together, but there's still not that much room. "It's fine," he says. "It wasn't that big of a deal."

"Innie." Minho turns to face him. He looks so small, curled up in bed like this. It makes Jeongin's heart thump in his chest.

"Hmm?" He doesn't trust his voice.

"Truth or dare, from earlier. It's your turn."

"Huh?"

"From Jisung's room." Minho is gazing at him, big, round eyes shining in the darkness. "Pick truth."

"O-Okay. Truth." Jeongin's heart is beating so loudly he can't hear anything else.

"Do you have a crush on anyone right now?" Minho's voice is low and quiet, and— if Jeongin didn't know any better, he would say Minho sounded _nervous._

Now Jeongin rolls on his side. They're face-to-face, noses just inches away from each other. "Yeah," Jeongin whispers. "Yeah, I do."

Minho's eyes close. "Cool," he says, an echo from earlier today that feels like years ago now, and both of them let out little puffs of laughter. There's a feeling in Jeongin's chest, making it tight and hard to breathe but in a _good_ way. In a way that makes him feel like he's floating.

"How drunk are you?" Jeongin asks, more to distract himself than anything else.

"Not very." Minho pulls his knees up under the covers and they brush against Jeongin's. Jeongin shivers. "M really high, though."

"Still?"

"I split a joint with Jae on the balcony."

"Oh, wow." Joints always get Jeongin way too high, so he usually avoids them. "Do you feel okay?"

"Yeah," Minho mumbles. "Just sleepy." His eyelids are fluttering now, like he can't keep them open. "Hey, Jeongin?"

"Hmm?" Jeongin is basking in the warmth of this moment, of being in bed with the guy he likes and, now, is pretty sure likes him back.

"I usually fall asleep cuddling something."

It's true. The few times Jeongin has caught Minho napping on the couch, he always has a pillow stuffed in his arms. And on his bed, which Jeongin has only seen a few times, there's a giant, pink stuffed animal.

Jeongin feels brave, here in the dark. "Big or little spoon?" he whispers.

"Little."

It's not what Jeongin would have expected, and he likes that. He opens his arms, and Minho turns over and scoots backwards, and Jeongin is holding his breath because _holy shit_. Minho Lee is curled up in Jeongin's bed, in his _arms._

Jeongin keeps his pelvis decidedly away from Minho's ass, but he holds Minho close against his chest. Minho grabs his hands, and Jeongin hears him let out a content sigh.

He wants to treasure this. But his eyelids are heavy, and Minho is warm, and in minutes, they're both fast asleep.

* * *

It's not that he oversleeps the next morning— in fact, he wakes up ten minutes before his alarm. But he _also_ wakes up with Minho's arms and legs fully wrapped around him and Minho's shallow little kitten breaths hot on his neck, and he decides that nothing in the world is worth getting out of bed. _Especially_ not International Economics.

When Minho finally stirs awake, it's half past noon.

He stretches his arms above his head, letting out small, sleepy squeaks, and Jeongin tries to keep it together as he has an internal fit of panic over how absolutely _cute_ Minho is.

He knew Minho was hot. He knew Minho was a little weird. He had no idea that Minho was fucking _adorable,_ too.

Finally Minho's long lashes flutter and he opens his eyes, giving Jeongin a soft smile.

"You're comfy," he says.

 _I'm going to die._ Jeongin clears his throat and hopes to god or whoever that his voice won't squeak. All he can manage to get out is, "Thanks."

Minho lays there for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling, and then curls back into Jeongin's side. Jeongin nearly wheezes.

"Is this okay?" Minho asks, voice all muffled from being pressed into Jeongin's side.

"Uh, yeah."

"What time is it?"

Jeongin uses the arm that isn't pillowing Minho's head to grab his phone. "12:45."

Minho lifts his head. "Didn't you have class?" He sounds worried.

"I, uh. Skipped it." Jeongin laughs. Somehow all of the nervousness has melted away, now that Minho is awake, and he just feels warm and content.

"Oh, my god. Why?" Minho lays his head back down on Jeongin's chest, but elbows Jeongin in the side. "Don't be a delinquent."

"I just—" Jeongin takes a deep breath, preparing for what he's about to say. His fear is gone. He feels brave. "I would rather be here. Can you blame me?"

Minho's not looking at Jeongin, but his body stills and Jeongin knows that Minho understands what he meant. Not that he wanted to stay in his room, in bed. Not just that.

He wanted to be here, with _him._

It's quiet for a moment, and then Jeongin feels Minho's cheeks move and he knows Minho is smiling.

"No," Minho says. "I don't think I could blame you." He yawns. "I don't really want to leave either."

Jeongin's chest tightens and his cheeks heat up. "You don't have to," he says, trying to sound neutral. It's hard when he's imagining a lazy afternoon together with Minho in bed. _In bed._

"I do, actually."

 _Crash._ Jeongin's fantasy shatters. "Oh."

Minho giggles. "Don't sound so sad," he says. He squeezes Jeongin around the middle. "I have to go visit my parents. I'll be back tomorrow."

He sits up in bed, shaking the hair out of his eyes, and Jeongin is glad he's laying down because if not, he probably would have passed out from the sight. Minho, hair all messy from sleep, cheeks flushed, and completely _shirtless._ He's a work of art and Jeongin can barely breathe.

"When I get home tomorrow," Minho goes on, seemingly unaware of Jeongin's gay crisis, "we should talk."

"Talk?" Jeongin repeats. _Why does that sound so… serious?_

Minho looks at him, head slightly tilted. "I think we have a lot to talk about," he says. "Don't you?"

Jeongin just gapes at him. Minho is clearly trying to imply something, but Jeongin's entire brain is currently devoted to trying not to stare at Minho's chest. "I…"

"Innie," Minho pouts, actually _pouts._ "Don't tell me I've been reading you wrong this whole time?"

He actually seems a little stiff, like he's worried, and luckily that jumpstarts Jeongin's brain back into working mode. _Oh, fuck._

"No," he blurts out. "I mean, yes. I mean— uh, _yes,_ we should— talk. You… you haven't read me wrong."

 _Jesus Christ, Jeongin Yang, get your fucking head together._ Jeongin cringes at himself internally. He's clumsy and awkward on a normal day, and this is anything _but_ normal. _Fuck._

Minho just smiles at him then, and for a moment Jeongin is confused. How can Minho just smile at him like that, after Jeongin just made a total fool of himself and tripped over his words like an awkward teenager?

And then Minho kisses him.

"See you tomorrow, Jeongin." There's a creak as Minho gets up off the bed, then some shuffling as he pulls his clothes back on, and that's it. The door closes, and he's gone.

Jeongin just lays there, stunned. He would think it was all just a dream, except he can still feel the slight pressure of Minho's lips against his own.

Minho Lee _kissed him._

* * *

"He _kissed_ you?!"

Felix's voice is high and shrill; a stark contrast to his usual deep tone. He's staring at Jeongin, open-mouthed, from the bed in his dorm room.

Jeongin nods from his spot on the floor. "I've been thinking about it all day and yeah, I'm like, ninety percent sure I didn't hallucinate the whole thing. He _kissed_ me, Felix! What the fuck do I do?!"

"What do you mean, what do you do? That's _good!_ That's what you've wanted this whole time!"

"I _know,_ but— ugh!" Jeongin falls backwards. Now he's lying on Felix's floor, staring up at the ceiling. He drags a pillow over his face. "You've _seen_ him, right?"

"Uh, yes. Duh."

"He's like a _statue,_ Felix! A work of art, like— like— what's that really famous sculpture?"

"David? The Greek one?"

"Yeah, that. He's like that. But _real."_

"Dude, David has a tiny dick."

Jeongin throws the pillow at Felix. It hits him with a soft _thump._ "Shut up. It's bigger than yours."

"Is not!"

"Whatever! I don't even care if his dick _is_ that small. He's still gorgeous and hot and _he slept in my fucking bed, Felix!_ I am having a _crisis!"_

"I can see that, Jesus." Felix tosses the pillow back and then grins at Jeongin impishly. "Did he get morning wood?"

Jeongin's face goes blank. "Uh." He tries to remember, but the only thing that comes to his mind from this morning is memories of Minho's quiet, even breathing; the rise and fall of his chest against Jeongin's. "I don't remember, actually."

"You don't remem— how?!" Felix sounds incredulous.

"I don't know! He was like, curled up on my chest, and he was making these really cute sounds while he was breathing, like a— a cat…"

Felix just stares at him. "Jeongin Yang, you are fucking whipped."

Jeongin just covers his face with his hands and groans. "You are so right."

_Fuck._

* * *

Getting through the rest of the day is difficult. A few times Jeongin almost asks Hyunjin for Minho's number, but he's too embarrassed to go through with it. What would he say, anyway? _"Hi, I begged your number off Hyunjin. I miss you. Thanks for sleeping with me last night."_

It's a wonder Minho wants to talk to him at all.

So instead, he tries his best to occupy himself with normal things. He works on some assigned reading for a bit, then gives up to play video games with Jisung.

Finally, around midnight, he gives up. He's not that tired, but the sooner he goes to sleep the sooner it will be tomorrow. The sooner he can see Minho again.

But when he lays down in bed, memories of Minho overwhelm him.

Minho's scent is _everywhere_. Jeongin rolls over to the side of the bed he never sleeps on; the side Minho slept on last night. He presses his face into the pillow and inhales. Almost unconsciously, his hips rut against the bed, surprising himself.

It's been a long time since he's gotten off this way. He used to do it a lot when he was younger, since it was easy and inconspicuous, but it was hard to watch porn at the same time, so he stopped. But he doesn't need to watch anything right now— all he needs is the scent of Minho all around him; the memory of his body.

Jeongin balls his fists in the pillow and drags his hips slowly against the bed. He likes it best this way— slow and intense.

He stuffs a hand between his legs, pulling his cock free of his briefs to rub against the fabric of the sheets. It's gross, he knows it's gross, but Minho's skin touched these sheets and in his foggy, aroused state he just wants to be as close as he can.

His foreskin makes the glide easy once he leaks a little precum, the protective skin staying mostly in place as his hips move. When he thrusts too hard the sensitive head of his cock slides past his foreskin and rubs against the rough cotton sheets, a little painful but so intense, so good.

The pillow swallows his moans and the darkness swallows his fantasies. When he comes, he chokes Minho's name into the pillow and spills his seed on the sheets where Minho slept, and his body is shaking from the force of it all.

He should get up and change the sheets. But he doesn't. He falls asleep on the same side where Minho slept, and for once his sleep is dreamless.

* * *

He wakes up sticky and confused. Morning Jeongin curses late-night horny Jeongin for not only deciding to cum on the sheets but then to _fall asleep in it_ , and with disgust he strips the bed and hops into the shower.

By the time six PM rolls around, Minho still isn't back and Jeongin has exhausted all possible distractions. He slumps onto the couch with a loud sigh.

Jisung walks past and gives him a weird look. "You've been moping around all day. Did something happen?"

"No." Jeongin sighs again. "Just… bored." It's not a total lie. He's bored of not existing in the same space as Minho Lee.

"Hyunnie and I are gonna go hang out at Chan's. Pizza and movie night. Do you wanna come with?"

It's a little tempting, if only because it will make the time pass quicker. And, Jeongin has to admit— he likes the way Chan fawns over him. But… what if he left, and Minho showed up? He knows it's obsessive, but he doesn't want to chance missing his crush. _Especially_ not after everything that's happened.

"Nah, I have homework."

"Chan's gonna be heartbroken."

That gets a smile out of Jeongin. "Tell him I'll go next time. Promise."

"Will do. Have a good night, Innie!" Jisung throws a couch pillow at Jeongin as he leaves— and that's how Jeongin ends up falling asleep on the couch at six in the evening on a Saturday night, all alone in their apartment.

* * *

"—nie?"

A sound jolts him awake and he blinks, confused. It's dark, but he's not in his room— and there's someone next to him, brushing the hair out of his face—

"Minho?" he mumbles, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. It's not necessarily that he thinks it's Minho next to him, but Minho is the only person on his mind and therefore the first name that comes out of his mouth.

"Hi, sleepyhead."

The words make him smile, even though his brain is still foggy. He's never really liked naps— he hates how disoriented and slow he feels when he wakes up from them.

"Hi," he says back, shyly. He can make out Minho's outline now, dimly lit by the last few minutes of sunset. Even just his outline is beautiful, all soft reds and hazy purples against the blackness of the rest of the apartment.

"Why are you all alone in the dark?"

Stifling a yawn, Jeongin checks the time on his phone. He's only been asleep for an hour. "Hyunjin and Jisung left to have movie night with Chan, but I—" He cuts off, seconds away from saying _I was waiting for you._ A blush spreads across his cheeks and he hopes Minho can't see it in the dark.

Minho finds Jeongin's hand and starts playing with Jeongin's fingers. It's just like two days ago, when they were sitting here on this same couch— but that feels like a different lifetime.

"But you… were waiting for me?"

Minho's tone is equal parts teasing and affectionate, and it makes Jeongin's embarrassment fade. "Yeah," Jeongin says, laughing at himself. "Yeah, I was."

Minho hums. "Good," he says, and then he sighs. "I was hoping you would text me."

"I don't have your number."

"I know."

They're silent for a moment, Minho's small, soft hand just resting on Jeongin's own. Jeongin wants to make the move and hold it, but he can't. Not yet.

It's like the whole apartment is holding its breath, and the idea is so ridiculous that Jeongin laughs, softly. He laughs at himself, at all his silly worrying, and decides to just _stop_. Stop being nervous, stop second-guessing himself. What's the worst that could happen?

"I almost asked Hyunjin for it," he admits.

"Why didn't you?"

"Oh, my god, that would have been creepy." Jeongin laughs at himself. "Asking someone else for your number and then texting you after just one day? I'm not _that_ pathetic."

"I don't think it's pathetic," Minho says quietly. "I think it's cute." And he does what Jeongin couldn't, and intertwines their fingers. He squeezes. "I think _you're_ cute."

"Wh— really?" Jeongin's heart is beating so loudly he thinks it's fucking with his hearing. There's no way Minho just said what Jeongin thought he said. _Right?_

"Of course, really," Minho says. He scoots around on the couch and turns so that he's facing Jeongin, even though it's still too dark to see. "Since the day I met you."

"I…" Jeongin has no idea what to say. He can barely believe his ears. "What?"

"I like you, Jeongin. Couldn't you tell?"

His ears are ringing and his heart is bursting and his mind is going wild. "I— you— you _like_ me?"

Even in the dim lighting Jeongin can see Minho frown. "I thought I was making it obvious."

And for a moment, Jeongin stops to think. Minho, always looking happy to see him. Minho, seeking Jeongin out when he was free. Asking about Jeongin's day, remembering little details about Jeongin's schedule, his life…

Finally, it hits him. "Oh," he says. _"Oh."_

Minho's body shakes with laughter, next to Jeongin on the couch, and it's infectious. In moments they're both doubled over, clinging to each other for balance, laughter filling the empty apartment. Jeongin's knees knock against Minho's, their heads bent together, and it just feels _right._

After their laughter fades to little puffing breaths and shallow pauses, everything stills. Jeongin can feel Minho's pulse from where their fingers touch, so steady he becomes unable to discern it from his own; and then he wonders why he's thinking about their pulses when Minho is leaning in, leaning in and—

Jeongin sighs into the kiss, because it feels more right than anything else has in his entire life.

He melts into Minho's touch, parting his lips to yield to Minho's full, plump ones. The slick sound of their mouths parting echoes in the quietness, and he'll think of the sound when he remembers this scene later, the soft obscenity of it.

The moments run together. One second Minho is beside him and the next he's straddling Jeongin's lap, small hands tangling in Jeongin's hair, their breath mingling in the secret space between their bodies. Minho's weight on him is the best thing Jeongin has ever felt, and he can't stop the shiver that travels down his spine. Up close, Minho smells like fall— cool, crisp air, golden leaves, and the tiniest hint of raw vanilla.

He catches Minho's lips gently between his teeth and Minho gasps. Jeongin pulls back, worried, out of breath.

"Sorry, is that not—"

"No, I'm fine," Minho breathes. He's panting slightly, and Jeongin feels a flush of pride that _he_ did that. "Just surprised." Minho rests his forehead against Jeongin's, and slowly, _deliberately_ , shifts his weight on Jeongin's lap.

"I like it," Minho whispers.

Now it's Jeongin's turn to gasp. Minho's little repositioning landed him right on top of Jeongin's cock. It's trapped awkwardly against his leg, filling out rapidly, straining against the fabric of his pants and Minho's weight on top of it.

Minho chuckles under his breath, like he _knows,_ and finds Jeongin's lips again.

Jeongin can't help moaning into Minho's mouth, and his hands land shakily on Minho's soft hips, more to give him something to hold onto than anything else. This feels _good,_ his whole body feels so fucking good, and it's not that Minho is particularly skilled at any of this, it's just— it's _Minho._

Minho on top of him; Minho's small hands winding in Jeongin's hair and Minho's strong thighs pressing down Jeongin's own. In Jeongin's dreams Minho had let out little kitten mewls, but this Minho— the living, breathing, _real_ Minho— is just breathless. He pants hot breaths against Jeongin's lips as they kiss and occasionally mutters a soft _ah_ when Jeongin's fingers press against the flesh of his hips.

It's better, so much better than his dreams.

 _Minho. Minho, Minho, Minho—_ "Minho!" he gasps, fingers digging in hard on Minho's waist, trying to still him, but it's too late. Minho grinds down again onto Jeongin's lap and it _happens,_ his nightmare, his worst fear—

Jeongin's mouth opens in a wordless cry and he comes in his pants.

Minho doesn't notice at first and he keeps moving, keeps kissing Jeongin's lips, until eventually he seems to realize that Jeongin is still and he pulls back, concerned.

Jeongin's hands fly up to cover his face. He's so embarrassed, he could die. His first time doing anything with Minho and he just blew his load after like five minutes, five minutes of _making out_ , like a fucking teenager—

"Jeongin, what—" Minho looks down, he sees the dark spot on Jeongin's sweats, slowly spreading, then looks back at Jeongin's face— _"oh."_

And Jeongin thinks that Minho is going to try and say something supportive, and he dreads it. But unfortunately he can't cover both his eyes and his ears at the same time, so he can't block out what Minho says next.

"Me, too?"

It's a question, but Jeongin doesn't understand why until Minho gently pulls Jeongin's hands away from Jeongin's face— and guides one of them to Minho's crotch instead. Minho presses himself into Jeongin's hand, and Jeongin feels him hard and hot and he can't help but gasp. Minho feels smaller than Jeongin expected, a small hardness pressing itself insistently against Jeongin's palm. Minho drops his head to Jeongin's shoulder.

"Please?" he whispers. His breath makes the hairs on Jeongin's neck stand up. "Me too, please, Jeongin—"

His pleads are intoxicating, and Jeongin's embarrassment fades quickly away, replaced by curiosity and heat. The hand that isn't palming Minho through his pants slides up and under Minho's shirt, Jeongin's fingernails scratching at the skin of Minho's back. When he does, Minho's body jerks slightly, and Jeongin can feel Minho moan against his neck. He switches his palming motion to the best version of stroking he can manage at this angle, and soon enough Minho's thighs are shaking and his arms wrap around Jeongin's neck, clinging.

"Harder— _hh—_ yes, yes, _yes—"_

Suddenly Minho's arms tighten around Jeongin, holding onto him so hard it almost hurts, and then Minho's hips stutter and he bites down on the skin of Jeongin's neck to stifle a cry as he comes against Jeongin's hand.

The wetness seeps through the fabric of Minho's jeans quickly, and Jeongin leaves his hand there for a second, just feeling the hot heat of Minho's release in disbelief.

 _It's real._ This is _real._ He just made Minho come, in his jeans, on their couch.

Minho pulls his head away from Jeongin's neck, and they finally make eye contact. Minho's blinking rapidly and his cheeks are flushed, and it's the most beautiful thing Jeongin has ever seen in his life.

He reaches up and brushes Minho's bangs out of his eyes. The ends are slightly damp with sweat.

He doesn't know what to say. But it doesn't matter, because Minho just smiles at him— that slow, genuine smile that shows off Minho's bunny teeth— and he can't help it, he's smiling back.

"Let's go clean up," Minho says. His voice is low and slightly hoarse. It's a bedroom voice, a post-fuck voice, and it sends happy chills down Jeongin's spine.

"Okay," he agrees.

When Minho slides off of Jeongin's lap the wet patch on his sweats goes instantly cold in the winter air, no longer protected by the heat of Minho's thighs, and Jeongin is mortified again— but only for a second, because Minho is poking at the wet spot on his _own_ jeans and saying, "Ew, it gets cold so fast."

He looks at Jeongin then, nose all scrunched up, and it's amazing how quickly Minho reverts back to his normal, casual self. Like nothing weird just happened at all. "Come on, hurry up. I wanna get warm."

Well, Jeongin can't argue with that.

* * *

Minho leads Jeongin back to his room, humming something under his breath. And— Jeongin feels stupid thinking this, he feels like a walking cliche— but there's a spring in Minho's step, and watching him from behind, Jeongin can't stop smiling.

Today is full of surprises.

Minho's room is the master suite in the apartment, so he's the only one with a private bathroom. Hyunjin had whined so much at the beginning of the year, calling it unfair that Minho got to take over Chan's room. "Well," Minho had smirked, "when I move out next year, you and Jisung can fight over it."

Jeongin yelps in surprise when something soft and pink hits him in the chest, and barely manages to catch it before it falls to the ground. It's a huge, fluffy pink towel.

"That one's my favorite," Minho says, already shimmying out of his jeans, "but you can borrow it."

Jeongin just gulps and tries not to stare too much as Minho proceeds to step out of his damp briefs, completely nonplussed.

He totally fails at the not staring part.

Minho is standing there in the middle of the bathroom, his shirt still on but his lower half completely bare. His cock, still half-hard and swollen, glistening red from earlier, peeks out from the bottom of his shirt. It's slightly left-leaning, and it's that small detail that makes Jeongin's heart skip a beat.

This is so _intimate._ The sight before him isn't hot or sexy, it's a little awkward and cute and just overwhelmingly private. He wonders how many people have seen Minho like this.

"Oh!"

Minho's voice snaps Jeongin out of his weird sentimental thoughts. "I should turn the water on," Minho says, reaching into the shower-bath combo to turn the faucet on. Instead of pulling the handle that diverts the water to the showerhead, he leans over the side of the bath and pushes in the plug of the drain. His ass sticks out as he's bent over, and Jeongin's eyes follow the curve of his well-muscled cheeks to the soft line that leads to the swell of Minho's sac. Somehow, even this part of him is beautiful.

"A bath?" Jeongin asks stupidly. He _just_ saw Minho put the plug in the drain. Oh well. He blames his lack of rational thought on Minho's lack of pants.

"Best way to get warm in the winter," Minho says, rubbing his hands on his thighs. "Come here."

Jeongin obeys, laying the towel on the sink as he passes. Minho grabs the hem of Jeongin's shirt. "May I?"

It's so polite and formal that Jeongin giggles. "Okay."

The air on his bare skin is cold, and he shivers once Minho has his shirt off. Instinctively he steps closer to the other man, and Minho wraps Jeongin up in a loose hug, arms draped around Jeongin's bare waist.

"You're pretty," Minho says, eyes traveling up Jeongin's chest.

Jeongin blushes. He feels a little bare, but with Minho's arms around him, it's okay. He's never actually been naked with anyone before— his few hook-ups have all been fumbled, quick affairs in the darkness, usually with random articles of clothing left on, more because of haste than any kind of insecurity.

"Not as pretty as you." As soon as the words are out of Jeongin's mouth he's embarrassed, but he doesn't regret them.

"Yes, you are."

And then Minho hooks a finger under Jeongin's chin, and stands up on his toes to kiss Jeongin on the lips. It's slow, and soft, and it leaves Jeongin warm all over.

When he pulls back, Jeongin chases him with another kiss. They make out again, in the clean, sterile light of the bathroom, but with none of the intensity from earlier on the couch. After a few moments they separate to catch their breath.

"Minho, why—" the question is out of his mouth before he can stop to think about it— "why did you take off your pants, but not your shirt?"

"Oh, um." Minho fidgets, fingers going to the hem of his shirt. "I have, like, a scar. On my stomach. It's not a big deal, but sometimes people freak out."

"Oh. Uh, sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No, it's okay. Here." And with one swift movement Minho pulls his shirt over his head. A faded, shiny scar stretches from his hip to just below his belly button. It's faded enough that Jeongin didn't even notice it the other day in his bedroom, but here in the direct overhead light, it's definitely noticeable. Minho traces it with his finger.

"Intestinal malrotation, when I was a baby. My insides were all twisted, so I had to have surgery." He giggles. "Hot, right?"

Jeongin smiles back, the tension gone, diffused by Minho's easy-going manner. "So hot." Scar or not, Minho's body is a sight to behold. Jeongin is never going to get over how the other man manages to be both small but powerful at the same time, the muscles of his back and thighs tight and well-defined, tapering down to the slender bones of his ankles and wrists. And those small, delicate hands.

As he's admiring, he realizes that he's still half-dressed, and quickly scrambles out of his remaining clothing. He can't help leaving a hand hovering in front of himself, knowing it looks awkward but not quite confident enough to stand there proudly like Minho.

Of course Minho notices. He makes eye contact with Jeongin and gently tugs Jeongin's hand away, bringing it up to his lips. He kisses Jeongin's palm.

"I think the water's ready."

When Minho lets go of Jeongin's hand to step into the bath, Jeongin draws his hand to his chest. His heart is thumping and his hand feels hot where Minho kissed it. It makes Jeongin's head reel, how _intense_ this all feels, how Minho can make him breathless with just a single, simple action.

He's never felt like this before.

He's had crushes. He's even dated before, for a little while in high school. And he's had hookups, last year and this year both, but _none_ of them felt anything like this. Everything in the past was either a mix of happiness and heat, or sometimes just plain lust— but _nothing_ like this. This mixture of hot-and-cool, how Minho makes him feel so turned on one moment and then makes him feel safe and soft the next, or how Minho can just— just _take his breath away_. Minho turns the most mundane moments into breathtaking memories that fix themselves in Jeongin's mind.

"Are you coming?"

Jeongin jumps and realizes that Minho is already settled in the bathtub, looking up at him.

"Yeah, ha, ha— sorry—" Jeongin scrambles to the tub and gingerly lowers himself in, hissing when the hot water reaches his balls.

Minho giggles. "The balls are the worst part. Sometimes if the water's too hot, it makes me feel like I'm gonna throw up when it hits my sac. You know?"

"Yeah, like right now," Jeongin says through clenched teeth. But the feeling passes, and he settles himself into position, knees drawn up to his chest. They knock against Minho's, who's in the same position. It's cramped, but not the worst.

"What do you think about, when you space out?"

The question catches Jeongin by surprise. "Uhh. You, mostly," he answers with a shrug.

A smile takes over Minho's face. "Me, huh?" He jostles his knee against Jeongin's playfully. He seems pleased.

"Yeah, like, just now I was thinking about how— about how you kissed my hand, and it just… I don't know, you just make me feel… good, I guess. But it keeps catching me off-guard." He's rambling. "It's hard to explain."

Minho just hums. "I know what you mean."

Jeongin is surprised. "You do?"

"Mmhm." Minho reaches past Jeongin's shoulders to grab a bar of soap, and starts lathering his arms while he speaks. "When you first moved in, you did that to me all the time."

"R-really?"

"Yes, really. Here, turn around." Minho makes a little gesture with his hand, and Jeongin obediently scooches his body until his back is facing Minho. Minho starts washing him, gently and methodically.

"I don't think you know how cute you are, Jeongin," he says. "You would do the smallest little things, like hand me a plate with a huge smile on your face, and my heart would just _stop."_

Suddenly Jeongin is very glad he's facing the wall, because his face starts heating up and he knows he's blushing furiously.

"So you've liked me this whole time?" he asks.

"I told you, since the very first day."

Happiness thrums through Jeongin's body. "Why didn't you say anything?" Not like Jeongin could really call him out on it, since Jeongin never said anything either, but he wanted to know anyway.

Minho pauses in his ministrations. "I guess… I kind of felt bad. In the beginning."

"...Oh." Jeongin can't keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"No, no! Sorry. I don't mean, like, in a bad way. It's just… you're three years younger than me. I felt like a creep at first."

Jeongin doesn't really know what to say to that. He hugs his knees to his chest.

"But then I got to know you, and the feelings didn't go away. They just got stronger. And then I started thinking of you less as a _sophomore,_ and more as just… a person." Minho's arms encircle Jeongin from the back, and he stretches his legs out to pull Jeongin back against him. "A person I like."

For a moment, Jeongin doesn't know how to react. But then he lets himself relax back into Minho's embrace, the warm water sloshing from their movements, and he smiles to himself. It might have been a strange journey, for _both_ of them, but it was worth it to end up here.

"I almost told you the other day."

Jeongin twists around to look at Minho. "When?"

"Like two days ago. After we smoked on the couch together? But you didn't answer the door."

"Oh my god, I can't believe I missed your confession because I was jerking off," Jeongin says with a laugh, before his brain realizes what he's done.

"You were _what?"_ Minho shrieks.

Jeongin's eyes go wide and he slaps a hand over his mouth. "Fuck. I thought you knew!"

"No! What? How would I _know?_ "

"I thought you, uh—" the words sound terrible even as he's saying them— "heard me."

Minho squeals and splashes water at Jeongin again, but it's playful. He jiggles his knees against Jeongin's sides. "And you didn't stop? I had no idea you were so kinky."

 _"Minho!"_ Jeongin protests, his voice coming out as a shrill squeak. "I am not, god, I was just high and horny, okay—"

Laughter pours out of Minho as he tries to wrap Jeongin in another hug, and Jeongin tries to squirm away. They make such a commotion that water sloshes over the side of the tub and soaks the pastel pink bath mat, making Minho screech once again as he accuses Jeongin of being a spy from Hyunjin trying to sabotage his private bathroom.

It's the most Jeongin's laughed in a long, long time, and they stay in the bath until long after the water goes cold. When they get out they part ways for the night, but the pruned skin of Jeongin's fingers reminds him it was real.

* * *

Other reminders follow the first, as Minho and Jeongin get closer and more comfortable with each other. Minho starts texting Jeongin when they're apart, little messages that are simultaneously cuter and more cringey than Jeongin ever imagined.

**11:42 PM**

_Dream of me tonight._

Jeongin clutches his phone to his chest, unable to stop himself from rolling back and forth in his bed, smiling like an idiot in the darkness. It's so _cheesy,_ and yet—

**11:43 PM**

_only if you promise to dream of me too_

**11:45 PM**

_I always do._

* * *

Minho, Jeongin comes to learn, is a hopeless romantic. He never would have guessed. The cool and beautiful upperclassman, who turns heads left and right, is an absolute fool wherever Jeongin is concerned.

One day, he steals Jeongin's phone when they're watching some stupid show on Netflix.

"You only have me saved as _Minho_?" He pouts at Jeongin from the other side of the couch.

"I— well— what do _you_ have _me_ listed as?" Jeongin sputters. He wanted to change Minho's contact name, but everything he came up with felt silly.

Still pouting, Minho pulls out his own phone and swipes to his contacts, then shows Jeongin the screen.

**mine🖤**

Jeongin's cheeks flare. He pretends to scowl and tries to grab his own phone back, but Minho twists out of his reach, tapping something on the screen. After a few seconds he hands it back to Jeongin with a smug grin.

Sure enough, it's open to Minho's contact page. And it says:

 **mine** 💛

He opens his mouth to protest, just for show, but Minho beats him.

"Yellow is your favorite color, right?"

It stops Jeongin in his tracks. The cockiness is gone from Minho's tone, and when he looks over at the other man, Minho's lip is caught between his teeth and Jeongin can tell he's nervous. And it's moments like these— when Minho shows this other side of himself, the side that nobody else gets to see— that Jeongin's breath catches in his chest and his heart beats so fast he thinks he might die from it. He's in love. Love, love, _love._

"Yeah," he says quietly. He scoots closer to Minho and curls up against Minho's side. "It is." He sniffs. "Thanks."

"Thanks? For what?"

Jeongin buries his face into Minho's hoodie, too embarrassed of how happy and overwhelmed he feels right now to let himself be seen. "For everything," he mumbles.

Minho puts an arm around Jeongin and lets Jeongin burrow deeper against his side. He hums; Jeongin can feel the vibrations through Minho's chest.

They stay like that for a while, the show running into the next episode, and Minho is so quiet Jeongin thinks he's fallen asleep. But as the sun sets, filling the living room with a slow, golden glow, Minho speaks.

"Hey, Jeongin?"

"Yeah?"

"We're gonna be together for a long time, right?"

Minho's voice is so quiet, and Jeongin hears himself in those words. He hears someone who is happy, sure, but also a little bit afraid. Afraid of how the other person feels, afraid of what the future holds. Someone who knows that nothing in life is certain, but wants to be told that this, at least, _is._

"Yeah," Jeongin says. He puts all of the love he can into the words, all of the feelings that Minho has given him over the past few weeks. His voice shakes with the force of it.

"Yeah, we are."

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of want to write a part two but I don't know if I'll have time :( but if you liked it, comments are appreciated!


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